Interior Designs (15 page)

The master bedroom suite was big and airy, with a king-sized bed covered with a custom-made print bedspread that matched the valances above the shuttered windows. Cathryn went into the large dressing room, with its multiple closets, and set her overnight case on the vanity. She usually hung her clothes beside Drew's in his closet when they stayed there, but at the moment he stood just inside the huge walk-in, rummaging on a closet shelf for his swim trunks and blocking her way.

There was no reason why she couldn't use the other closet, she reasoned, opening the door. She froze in amazement when she discovered that the closet was full of clothes.

There were dresses, some hanging in plastic dry-cleaning bags, and shoes, neatly arranged on built-in shoe racks. An array of handbags occupied one wall, each in its own cubbyhole.

She felt Drew behind her, and she swiveled her head, her eyes wide.

"Talma's clothes," he said in a quiet tone. "The ones she left behind."

This tangible evidence of his ex-wife's presence in the house where she and Drew shared a life on weekends hit her with a force that was almost physical.

"I should have done something about them long ago," he continued, his voice low. "I didn't think about it." He was silent for a long moment during which she could hear every beat of her heart. Then Drew said decisively, "I'll pack up the clothes she left. She's out of my life for good, and I'm glad of it."

"It's not necessary to get rid of anything," Cathryn said stiffly. "I can use your closet."

"I want to," he said firmly. "I'll send Talma the things I think she might wear and donate the other stuff to Goodwill. You can help me."

"Oh, but Drew," she said, taken aback at the idea of invading another woman's—Drew's former wife's—closet.

"Doing this wouldn't bother you, would it?" asked Drew. He brushed past her and emerged from the closet carrying a pile of dresses, dumping them across the back of the ornate low chair in front of the dressing table.

"These are Talma's things," she said, touching the top dress and feeling troubled. "She wouldn't want another woman pawing through them."

Drew stood before her, his hands loosely resting on his hips. He spoke briskly. "Nonsense. Talma took what she wanted when she left. She told me that she didn't want any part of me—not my money, my house, my love. Nor did she want the clothes I'd provided for her, apparently. Although—" and here he laughed in grim amusement "—she didn't seem to mind hanging on to the various pieces of jewelry that I'd given her."

Imagining the intensely unpleasant scenes that must have taken place between Drew and his ex-wife in this house, perhaps on this very spot, was emotionally more distressing than she imagined sorting through Talma's clothes would have been. Cathryn turned to hide her face from Drew, but the mirror over the dressing table reflected her anxiety and doubt, and suddenly Drew focused his attention on her.

"Hey," Drew said, standing behind her and nuzzling her averted cheek. "Try not to have hang-ups about this, okay? For my sake."

She closed her eyes and rested her temple against his for a moment, aching over broken dreams and forsaken promises, none of them her own. No matter how much she loved Drew, no matter how soulfelt was her desire to help him find a new life, and no matter how big a part she was to play in that life, she couldn't help feeling sorrow over a marriage that had ended. Even someone else's marriage.

Drew sensed the depth of her anguish. He turned her to face him and kissed her tenderly on the cheek.

"If this is going to be difficult for you, we don't have to do it. I'll hire someone to come here and clean the closet." Yet she sensed a reluctance in his voice, as though he didn't want to assign this highly personal task to anyone else. And suddenly, in a surge of understanding, she knew why Drew wanted to empty Talma's closet himself and why he wanted her help.

Now, with her, Drew was ready to leave his old life behind. Perhaps he had never truly been ready before, but he was now. He wanted her to be instrumental in helping him to overcome the old painful memories. This was his way of telling her that she was an important part of his new life. He wasn't being callous or trying to subject her to an experience that would cause her discomfort. He was simply and of necessity trying to work past the old and get on with the new. And he was taking her with him.

"I'll help," she said. "I want to."

Their eyes locked in silent understanding before Drew turned again toward the closet.

They worked quickly and efficiently together, establishing one stack of clothing to be sent to Talma, another to be sent to Goodwill. Drew slid garments from their hangers and tossed them to Cathryn, who looked them over for imperfections. Anything that was in good condition and not hopelessly out of style was consigned to the pile to be sent to Talma. All other items were designated for charity.

"What a lovely purse," said Cathryn when Drew handed the tooled-leather bag out of the closet.

"I bought that for her," said Drew, running his eyes over it again. "We were on vacation in Mexico at the time." He looked away quickly, as though it hurt his eyes to see it.

"Shall I put it on the pile to send to her?"

"I suppose so," he said, seemingly indifferent, but Cathryn knew better. She tossed the purse on the correct heap before returning her attention to Drew. His lips were pressed firmly together, and he avoided her eyes.

She stretched out her hand and let it rest on his arm. "Drew, if you've changed your mind about doing this..."

He shook her hand away impatiently. "No," he said sharply.

His tone of voice was hurtful, and all at once he seemed to have excluded her. His face went soft when he saw the wounded expression in her eyes. He added the scarves he was carrying to the pile of dresses before wordlessly gathering her into his arms.

He didn't speak for so long that she was thinking of pulling away and making light of the whole situation. She was glad that she hadn't when he finally spoke.

"Cathryn, forgive me. I didn't mean to speak so sharply." His voice was low and hesitant and muffled in her long hair. His hands opened and closed around the strands of it that hung down her back. "I bought that purse for Talma on our honeymoon. It triggered a memory that I'd rather forget, that's all."

"Do you want to stop doing this? Cleaning out her things, I mean? If you do, I understand." She spoke gently.

He shook his head. "We're through now. The scarves were the last of her things except for the shoes, and I'll ask the housecleaners to pack them in the box with the other clothes she might want."

Cathryn was so filled with compassion for him that she scarcely realized the import of her next words: "You still love her, don't you?"

Drew's arms tightened around her until she could hardly breathe. Then he relaxed his hold and stepped away. His brow was lined, and the tiny creases at the corners of his eyes seemed deeper than she'd ever noticed. He led her to the bed in the bedroom and sat down on the end of it, pulling her down beside him with an expression of uncommon intensity. His own eyes were deep pools, the pain inside him rippling up from their depths.

"I've asked myself that question over and over. At first, despite the fact that Talma went away to be with another man and despite all the unforgivable things she said to me, I wanted to forgive her. I longed to move past all the bad things that happened and get her back. Because at the time, she was all I knew. And if she came back, so would Selby, and I'd have my family again."

"And did you forgive her?"

"It wasn't that easy. But I did forgive her eventually. I thought for the longest time that if my love remained alive in my heart she'd come back. There's a lot of heartbreak in being left for another man."

"I know," she said, thinking of Terry Ballard.

"I suffered a lot of damage to my ego and my self-esteem. I kept punishing myself with the idea that I shouldn't have spent so much time at the office trying to build an empire that was of no meaning and no use without her. I kept wishing that I'd wake up some morning and the three of us would all be together once more. It didn't happen, and slowly I began to mend. And then I met you."

Cathryn felt as though it would be too painful to draw another breath. She waited for him to continue.

So far, Drew hadn't said whether he still loved his ex-wife or not. Cathryn's happiness and her certainty of his love for her waited to go up in a puff of smoke, ignited by the words she now fully expected him to utter: "I still love her."

Drew touched one hand to her face and slid it down the slope of her neck to her shoulder. He did the same thing with his other hand, his thumbs extending upward along the tendons in her neck.

"I met you," he continued, "and suddenly I wasn't thinking about myself—or my problems—anymore. I was thinking of that soft light in your eyes when you look at me, of the way your wrist tapers so gracefully into your hand, of the laughter bubbling up from your throat in delicate waves." His eyes mesmerized her so that she could look nowhere else.

"I love you, Cathryn. Believe it. I've found something with you that I've never experienced with anyone else—
anyone.
A depth of feeling and knowing another person beyond anything I ever thought was possible. I love you with every bit of life and hope and happiness in my body. Do you believe me? Do you?"

There was urgency in his touch now, and desperation. His eyes were intent and fierce, his look so compelling that she answered him truthfully and confidently.

"Yes," she whispered, because it was true.

He clasped her in his arms, lowering his head and kissing her, his mouth desperate with longing for oneness, for unity. And she responded with equal desperation, yet she was unable to abandon herself completely because he had not yet answered her question.

She could have pulled away, but despite her inner turmoil, she longed to give of herself. In that way, she could provide for him in a way that Talma hadn't been able. It was something she had to prove in order to make him comprehend her love. Loving was giving. Hadn't she read that somewhere? Her mind raced along, thinking these thoughts as Drew's hands moved to the buttons of her blouse.

She didn't want to think. She wanted to surrender to the feelings but couldn't until Drew answered her question—did he still love Talma? Finally she eased space between them.

His eyes sought hers. His hand was still molded to her breast. "Cathryn?" he whispered. She had never hesitated in their lovemaking before.

She leaned farther away, back across the bed. In the deepening twilight, shadows in the bedroom faded into hues of purple.

"I asked if you still love her." The words hung in the emptiness between them, ready to fall.

Drew took her hand. "I told you that I love you, and it's true. I'm convinced that you believe me. So you must also believe what I'm about to say. I'll always love Talma in a way. We shared our lives for ten years. She's the mother of my child. Even though we're fighting tooth and nail over Selby, I care for Talma because of these things. Can you possibly understand?"

Cathryn nodded. Her mouth felt dry. "I can try." The words were spoken hoarsely.

"But Cathryn, what I said before is true. I love you in a way I've never loved anyone else, even Talma. And believe me when I say that what she and I had at the time is over. I will never be
in love
with her again."

"You love her." The words fell like stones.

"I
care
for her. I'm not in love with her. I don't even like her very much!" Drew spat out the words, startling her so that she began to comprehend his meaning.

She didn't know, couldn't know, what it would be like to be a part of someone else's life for ten years. It would be an all-encompassing experience. Living in tandem with another person would leave its mark. Drew's life with Talma had undoubtedly influenced him in ways that Cathryn couldn't fathom. As much as his childhood, as much as his adolescence, those years were part of him and had made him the person he was today—the person she loved so much.

She drifted toward him—her face, then her body. His hands were sure and knowing as he removed her clothing, and she found herself helping him, slipping out of her clothes with an urgency that she had never felt before. When she lay completely naked on the bed, she shivered in the cool room, and he lowered himself over her, murmuring softly in her ear.

"Cathryn, Cathryn, my beautiful Cathryn," he whispered, his hands gliding like feathers up and down her body and eliciting the most tantalizing sensations in the deepest part of her. He raised his head, and in the dim light his features shimmered and she drew his head up to her level so that she could look into his eyes. At a moment such as this, his eyes wouldn't lie. He loved her, she could see it. With a deep sigh, she moved toward him until their lips met, letting their lovemaking draw a curtain of forgetfulness.

He stroked her thighs lightly and then more urgently until she opened to him. Their union, when it occurred, was so complete and meaningful that she cried out. They moved frantically in unison, proving to each other and themselves that their deeply felt emotions were true and real. When it was over, they remained joined, love and trust and joy once more renewed.

A long time later, when the walls had receded into darkness and all Cathryn could see was the outline of his profile against the moonlight from the window, she spoke drowsily.